Halo: Omicron
by dagorondraco
Summary: Ciaran-127 is a member of the Spartan-II's sister program: Project OMICRON. Following the Human-Covenant war, an old enemy appears from the ashes and threatens all life in the universe. Even with the renewed UNSC/Separatist Coalition, no one can fathom the horrors about to be unleashed on the galaxy. The only hope that remains is found with the last group of OMICRON super soldiers.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Operation: STOMP THE GROUND

0200 Hours, May 7, 2556 (Military Calendar) /

Undisclosed Planet, Saiph System

It was quiet. With no moonlight to illuminate the world below, the entire wood was covered in an eerie blackness. A small lizard-like creature scuttled across the firm ground. Desperate to find shelter, it did not see an object in its path. The impact temporarily stunned the animal. While trying to regain its wits, it also tried to register what it had just ran into. It was solid, but not a rock or tree. It was slick and had slightly shocked him. The creatures head turned upward and it froze. In front of him crouched a figure. With black skin, the figure was nothing more than a solid shadow in the thick foliage of the underbrush around it. The creature slowly backed up and scurried away, glad that what ever it was had not noticed him or had not cared enough to react.

The figure shifted ever so slightly, it's movements, from a distance, looking like nothing more than a bush spurred by the wind. A pair of gray eyes behind a visor bore down on the small trail only a dozen meters away. Glancing for only a moment at the right hand side of his Heads-Up-Display showed no life on the motion tracker. Amplified for the figure's personal armor, the upgraded motion tracker allowed for a registration of all hostile and friendly forced that were either moving or standing still. A calm, quiet female voice sounded from inside the figures head, "Ciarán, I'm uploading satellite information into your Tactical Reconnaissance Unit."

Without making any verbal acknowledgment, Ciarán-127 brought up his left arm. An oval piece of metal rested snugly on his armor's forearm. Centered on the back of his hand sat a spherical object with a piece of what looked like glass protruding from it. He moved his other hand to the oval and tapped a sequence of holo-keys. As he did so, the glass dome began to glow. When he hit the final key, a holographic orb formed mid air, lighting up the surrounding area. He stroked a few more keys and the orb, an image of a planet, zoomed in on an immense structure located on the eastern side of the largest continent. He clicked another set of keys and four red X's appeared.

As the voice spoke again, the X on the far side of the compound grew larger than the rest, "That's the best place for infiltration. It's a cooling duct for the reactor. Your shielding and armor should protect you from excessive radiation."

He clicked a single key and the T.R.U. went dark. Red in the bottom right of his HUD made him go still. On the very edge of his motion tracker were nine dots. As the dots were roughly one hundred and twenty yards out, he had plenty of time to move into position. With a silence that seemed impossible due to the ton of armor he wore, Ciarán made his way to the very edge of treeline. His hand moving fluidly to his back, Ciarán retrieved his battle rifle. Specially made for the assassin, the rifle had a built in silencer that completely muffled the burst fired. Bringing it to bear, he looked down the sight and set it for ten times magnification.

Approaching his position was a group of inhuman creatures. Eight of the nine targets were small, around four feet tall. Orange armor covered their dull skin and a rebreather covering their mouth was connected to a pyramidal canister on their back. Each one held a small, circular device with a thin stream of green light shooting back and forth between two points. The small game weren't going to be a problem. It was the figure in the center that made him cautious. Standing at almost twice the height of the Grunts, the Brute was bulky and clad in golden armor. Sporting what looked like a personal energy shield attached to his chest, Ciarán would have to act swiftly if he were to eliminate it before it could call for reinforcements. He subconsciously grinned.

"Ciarán...I know that look...don't go pushing yourself; the armor is still a prototype, as are all its features. You don't want to light up like a Christmas tree do you?"

Ciarán finally spoke, "Serenity."

"Yes," replied the disembodied voice.

"Shut it."

As he finished the order, he rolled out of cover. Without sighting down the barrel, he fired a multitude of concentrated bursts. In a matter of seconds, the Grunts lay on the ground, blue blood seeping from numerous holes in their bodies. The Brute, much to Ciarán's chagrin, stood unfazed. Calmly, but quickly, the Brute reached to its back and ripped off a cylindrical weapon. The assassin quickly rolled to the side as the Carbine spat green streaks of plasma at him. Ciarán took a deep breath as he righted himself and fired once. All three shots impacted the Brute's shield. The personal defense managed to withstand the force for a moment, but ultimately failed. Ciarán's ammo counter read "0" and he knew he had only a few seconds before the Brute's shield recharged.

Dropping his rifle, he reached around to his back. Grabbing the hilt of his combat knife, which rested horizontally on his waist, he unsheathed it. Not breaking his movement as the Brute attempted to turn and fire again, Ciarán lunged. A desperate shot managed to hit Ciarán as he assaulted his target, but it only minimally affected his shields. Ramming his knees into the Brute's chest, the assassin drove the blade into his target's mouth. As he did so, he clicked a button located on the pommel of the knife. A surge of electricity exploded from the hilt and caused the Brute to spasm on the ground.

The night air, interrupted only by the gurgling sound of the Brute, once again became quiet as Ciarán withdrew his blade. He stood and casually flicked the knife, red-blue blood splashing onto the ground. As he resheathed it, Serenity's voice said, "That was...impressive. Shielding a couple years back would have been reduced to half if shot from that distance. That Carbine barely took down an tenth of the Mark X's shields. I wonder how another Spartan would perform in this armor."

"Are you considering getting another play thing?" Ciarán inquired.

He imagined Serenity shrugging as she replied, somewhat sarcastically, "I don't know. There are a lot

of traits to consider when deciding upon a tin-chauffeur."

"Like what?"

"Compatibility, intelligence, spirit, attitude, and how well he or she listens to my commands."

"And I fit into how many of these categories?"

"One, spirit."

"I'm flattered...remind me to scrap you after we're done here."

Serenity responded with only a chuckle. Sighing, Ciarán bent over and swiftly rolled the bodies out of sight. Before moving on, he kicked dirt over the blood spatter, effectively hiding it. Serenity's voice said, "Room's clean. You can go out and play now."

"Thanks mom."

Ciarán exhaled and quietly shrunk back into the brush, disappearing from view. Increasing his pace, the Spartan quickly made his way down the trail. Ten minutes of travel later, he reached his destination. Towering in front of him was a large facility decorated with glimmering smokestacks belching smog into the air. The rest of the structure was comprised of the same milky material as the smokestacks and, from this point of view, had no discernible entrance.

"I'm uploading a NAV point now. Your point of entry is located fifty meters east and I'm not picking up any other life signs patrolling this wall. If I were going to choose a time to move, now would be it."

"Noted."

Ciarán shifted out of the brush and clicked a nob on the side of his helmet. The visor blinked between a series of different shades until it finally settled on a deep blue. Not three feet in front of him stood an immense yellow wall. Serenity let out what sounded like a whistle, "Impressive. A bio-detection field. Any living organism that passes that barrier is going to do two things. First, any unscheduled breaks in the barrier will most probably result in every alarm in the complex going off. The larger the mass, the more severe the alert. Second, it-"

"Makes sure it can't detect any thing organic," Ciarán finished.

Serenity paused. "Indeed...not as elaborate as I would have put it, but yes. It'll reduce anything unauthorized, and of sufficient mass, into a blackened husk. Pretty good if you want to keep the neighbors out."

"Mhmm," Ciarán responded. Removing his battle rifle and reloading it, he looked down the sight and aimed up. In the center of the structure, standing above all other pillars, was a thin antenna. His visor indicated the field was being emitted from that. The Spartan backed up and resighted. Serenity's questioning voice filled his helmet, "Um, Ciarán, what exactly are you going to do?"

"Take out the field."

"And you intend to do that...with a battle rifle?"

"I left my sniper rifle on the Pelican."

"Yes, I know that, but-"

"Serenity."

"Yes?"

"I'm trying to concentrate."

Serenity scowled, but didn't proceed with the conversation. Ciarán took a deep breath and held it. After a moment he gently squeezed the trigger. Barely audible, the triple round burst exploded from the barrel. The high velocity rounds tipped the antenna and the field sputtered and collapsed. He replaced the rifle and said, "I hit it."

"Indeed you did," Serenity answered, her tone slightly annoyed, "It was a lucky shot."

"Being a Spartan has nothing to do with luck, Serenity. It's all skill."

"Whatever gets you through the mission..."

Ciarán smiled and quickly advanced on the structure. Just feet away from the wall, red blips filled his motion tracker. He cursed and slid that last couple of feet, his back making on;y the slightest sound as it connected with the side of the complex. Ciarán quickly brought his hand up and hit the front of his right shoulder. His energy shield glistened for a moment and then formed a honeycomb-like bubble around him. The panels dimmed and then copied everything that appeared behind them. Ciarán disappeared onto the wall.

As the cloak settled, a patrol of numerous creatures rounded the corner. Each one had a large, blue, circular object jetting from their forearm. Beady eyes shifted back and forth on the side of a vulture-like head. Standing just a hair taller than the Grunts he encountered earlier, the group of Jackals were stick thin and outfitted with similar weaponry. Counting over thirty, the Spartan remained still as a statue. With agonizingly slow steps, the Jackals combed over the entire area. After almost fifteen minutes of searching, the group seemed to shrug in unison and began retreating in the direction they'd come from.

Muscles screaming from lack of use, Ciarán's life arm twitched. The Spartan felt a cold sweat begin to form as a single Jackal stopped. It turned and cocked its head, studying the wall Ciarán was mimicking. It watched, unblinking, for several seconds before a loud squawk disturbed its thoughts. It snapped its head in the direction of the distraction and conjured up a series of high pitched calls. This argument, as Ciarán surmised it was, continued only briefly finally culminating in the first Jackal casting a short glare in Ciarán's direction and then grudgingly falling back into formation.

Ciarán remained still for several minutes following the Jackals' departure. Deciding the coast was clear, he deactivate the cloak and took in a much needed breath of air. Serenity's voice made him jump, "I'll say it again, impressive. The chameleon circuit is extraordinary! Its much more sophisticated than the UNSC's initial tests with Sangheili cloaking devices."

"Serenity," Ciarán breathed, "This mission is a covert operation. One of the fundamental aspects of said operation is _silence_...now _shut it_!"

"Jeesh, someone's cranky."

Ciarán smacked the side of his helmet. After receiving a series of grunts and scowls, Ciarán continued on. As he rounded the corner of the complex, he saw his point of entry. Twenty feet in diameter, a large cylinder jutted from the wall. A greenish steam billowing from behind the bars made Ciarán hesitate.

"You're positive the radiation level is low enough that it won't cook my armor."

"Of course," replied the A.I., "It'll only cook your shields."

"Wonderful..."

Ciarán took a deep breath and made his way over. He gripped two adjacent bars and flexed. The bars groaned in protest, but quickly gave, creating a hole large enough for him to slip through. The moment his feet touched the liquid streaming out, his radiation levels spiked off the chart.

"Serenity..." Ciarán said, concern beginning to present itself in his voice.

"You bellowed."

"I don't have to worry about these readings, right?"

"Mhmm. There'll be no lasting effects and should minor ones arise, those will pass following a week of rest and relaxation."

"That's so reassuring..."

"By the way, you weren't planning on having children were you?"

The Spartan smacked his helmet again and proceeded on.

"Just thought I'd ask."

Navigating the labyrinth of pipework took more time than Ciarán would have liked. Despite having a layout of the structure it took him almost forty-five minutes to reach his objective. Sliding through a maintenance duct, he swept the hall he entered. Observing no resistance and no apparent surveillance he continued forward. Rounding the corner, he froze. Standing not three feet in front of him was a Brute, back turned. Ciarán twirled around and slammed onto the wall, activating his camouflage. The Brute spun around and quickly drew his weapon, surveying the corridor. Ciarán closed his eyes and mentally banged his head on a wall, annoyed that he had nearly been discovered.

The Brute slowly made his way down the hall, eventually disappearing from view down the perpendicular passageway. After a moment, Ciarán deactivated his cloak and growled, "What the hell, Serenity? Why didn't my sensors pick him up?"

"One moment," Serenity answered, "Oops."

"Oops?" Ciarán's annoyance was evident in his tone.

"I seem to have miscalculated certain variables. The radiation, while not a danger to your body, appears to have caused some of your suit's minor applications to malfunction."

"A motion tracker is _not_ a minor application! I'm completely blind now, Serenity!"

"Well, not completely. I can attempt to wirelessly infiltrate the Loyalist's network and make use of their sensor program. I should be able to alert you to any enemy movement around your location."

Sighing, Ciarán said, "Do it."

"It'll take a few minutes while I bypass their security protocols. I suggest continuing to your objective while I do so."

The inside of the complex was simplistic. Sleek, purple colored walls lined the halls and a gray walkway seemed to snake down every corridor. Ciarán took note of how tall the passages were; they topped at almost twice his height. Aside from the occasional patrol, Ciarán managed to avoid any confrontation with the enemy as he made his way to his destination. With Serenity's guidance, he finally made it. Bypassing a set of sliding doors, the Spartan confirmed a visual of the target. Pulsating in the center of a large, domed room was a tall spire. Tubes and wires winded across the floor, feeding from the spire into the walls surrounding it.

"Target confirmed. Energy readings indicate this is the facility's power source. A well placed charge should cause it to overload. The ensuing explosion will vaporize everything it touches. I suggest you set a timer so that you can escape with ample time to spare."

"Thanks for stating the obvious, Serenity. Now shut up and let me work."

Ciarán activated his cloak and slipped from shadow to shadow. Avoiding the guards in the room, he crouched in front of the spire. He removed a Lotus Antitank Mine and slid it under the spire's operating table. Satisfied it would remain undiscovered, Ciarán stood and turned to leave. Suddenly, a wave encompassed the room. The lights flickered for a moment and Ciarán's cloak failed. Things were quite for a moment. The twelve Brutes that were on duty had frozen and were looking at him. Ciarán let out a sigh and muttered, "This is awkward."

He look at the closest Brute and said, "I'm assuming that you're not going to let me just walk out of here."

The Brute growled and brought his plasma rifle to bear. Rolling out of the line of fire, Ciarán dodged behind a pillar. He removed what looked like a pen out of his back pouch and removed the cap. Without hesitating, he clicked the red button. There was a massive explosion that rattled the entire building and deafened Ciarán.

As the ringing in his ears subsided, Ciarán peeked around the corner. Red-purple blood painted the walls and the floor was covered in scrap metal, a smoldering mush blanketing everything else. Ciarán shrugged, "That works too."

"For eliminating those guards, of course, but what about the dozens of troops sure to come and investigate?"

The room was covered in a red hue as an alarm started sounding. Ciarán smiled and answered, removing his battle rifle, "I ask them to bring their A game."

Imagining Serenity shaking her head, he moved across the room and entered the hall. As he did so he saw a group of Brutes charging in his direction. By this time his motion sensor was almost completely red so he clicked it off. He flipped the safety off his rifle and said, "Serenity, how about we give this armor a test drive."

"What about stealth?" the A.I. asked sarcastically as Ciarán pulled his side arm and turned side ways down the length of the hall, "I guess that's no longer an option."

A group of Grunts rounding the opposite corner was peppered by pistol fire. In a hail of battle rifle bursts, Ciarán managed to lessen the Brute's numbers from sixteen to ten, their chieftain still charging with them. Dry firing, the Spartan dropped his weapon and let his training take over. He faced the group and took a deep breath. By this time the conglomeration of beasts had opened fire. Blue plasma sizzled down the hall, the shots that impacted his armor doing little to affect it. He exhaled and ran at them.

Jumping in the air, he used the first Brute's shoulders to propel him forward. The Brutes were obviously dumbfounded by the Spartan's course of action as they were slow to react. Taking advantage, Ciarán righted himself mid air and brought his foot into a Brutes face. Forcing the monster down, he brought all of the weight in his armor upon him. The alien's skull was easily crushed. Not breaking pace, Ciarán used his other leg to roundhouse kick two of them into a wall. Ciarán ducked as a massive arm cut through the air where his head once was. He grabbed the arm, stepped to the side and hyper-extended it roughly. Bone and muscle broke the skin and the Brute let out a howl of pain which was quickly silenced as Ciarán rolled into him and implanted his elbow into his face.

The six remaining Brutes quickly backed off, trying to reorganize. Not wanting them to get comfortable, Ciarán drew his dagger and blindly flicked it at the creature moving up behind him. The Spartan heard the satisfying sound of his dagger finding a temporary sheath and bolted to the wall to avoid a barrage of plasma. He kicked off the wall and planted his thighs on the nearest Brute's face. He twisted violent, the Loyalist's neck snapping like a twig. Using his momentum as he fell, he landed on his hands and threw the Brute's body into its brother. As the Spartan landed, he grabbed a plasma rifle and fired down the hall. In the flurry of fire, two of the Brute weren't able to escape and fell to the ground, their torsos smoldering. Ciarán smiled, observing his work when an ear splitting roar filled the hall.

The armored Brute was breathing heavily and glaring at Ciarán. Through the course of the battle, Ciarán had failed to discern its weapon. Standing two feet taller than he was, the Brute carried a large, black hammer. It roared again and started ambling toward the Spartan.

"Ciaran you need to be careful, that's not a weapon to be trifled with."

"I know, Serenity; it's a gravity hammer. Don't worry. That Brute is slow as-"

With a speed Ciarán hadn't anticipated, the Brute switched to a full on charge and was upon him in seconds. Unable to dodge, Ciarán watched as, with a battle yell, the Brute swung. It impacted the Spartan and the ensuing blast sent him into the wall, a large dent forming. Without using the weaponized part of it, the Brute continued to beat the Spartan multiple times, each hit driving him deeper and deeper into the wall.

Serenity's voice pounded inside the Spartan's helmet, "CIARÁN!"

The Spartan had flat lined after the fourth beating and had been unresponsive since. Serenity continued calling his name, her memory simulating concern and horror. Through the visor, the A.I. watched as the Brute pulled back for a final strike. As the hammer came down, she heard something. _BEEP_.

Ciarán's hand, ripping itself from the wall, moved up and caught the head. He chuckled and said, "Sorry. I fell asleep."

He gripped it tightly and pushed forward, off setting the beast. As he did so, he quickly pulled himself from the wall and primed two grenades. He causally tossed them at the disoriented Brute's feet and said, "See ya later."

He brought up his fist and then slammed in on the ground saying, "Armor lock initiate."

An electrical pulse charged through his energy shield. The Brute looked down, noticed the spheres, and managed to inhale to try and roar before the explosives detonated. Jets of flames rocketed down the hallway setting anything they touched ablaze. As the explosion settled, the Spartan's armor flickered and returned to normal.

Ciaran smiled, "OMICRON always has been the best."

As he stood, Serenity half yelled, "You were dead!"

He rotated his head, cracking his neck, and answered, "Shock induced cardiac arrest. My body was momentarily stunned beyond living."

"Still! That doesn't explain how you resuscitated yourself."

"I didn't."

"What?" Serenity asked, confused.

"I'm not sure if you notice or not, but, when ever you're overly upset, you cause machinery to release high voltage bursts of electricity."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do. You have to be very pissed off, mind you, but you still do. Ever notice how when you and I argue back on the _Spirit_ that my computer always shorts and a lot of secondary systems crash?"

He imagined her blinking as she responded, "Coincidence. I'd notice if I were doing something so obvious."

"Apparently you don't. I'm glad you've never gotten to that point when you've been synced with my armor and I've been alive. I get the occasional static shock, but I've gotten so used to that I don't even really register that it's happening anymore."

"You're making this up."

"Check your systems; I'm sure you'll find electrical surges that correspond with your outbursts. But do it quietly. We need to find away out of here before the core overloads."

Serenity grumbled and said, "Estimated time till overload is four minutes thirty seven seconds and counting. If I remember correctly, there is a hanger on the far side of the complex. I'm still reading a docked Phantom. You can make it if you hurry."

Ciarán nodded and turned in the direction of his new NAV point. He stroked a few keys on his TRU and quickly maneuvered through the labyrinth of hallways. Encountering only a few patrols, his overall trip took minutes. Arriving in the hangar bay, the Spartan noted how quickly the situation had deteriorated. Secondary explosions had collapsed much of the superstructure and the walls were threatening to give in to the stress they were under.

"If you were going to board the ship, now would be a good. There's only a minute thirty – CIARÁN!"

A red blip suddenly appearing directly behind him, Ciarán ducked. As he did so, an energy sword sizzled through the air where he had once been. He quickly rolled out of the way and drew his side arm. Aiming, he hesitated when he saw an Elite. Standing a head shorter than Ciarán, unusual for the species, the alien was clad in a type of armor the Spartan was not privy to. Not separated into individual pieces of metal, it resembled more of a body suit than actual steel portions. Wearing a helmet similar to a Sangheili Ranger, the figure made no utterance toward Ciarán.

Ciarán frowned and said, "Last time I checked, the Elites were our allies. Any particular reason you're trying to filet me?"

Remaining silent, the Elite began to circle. Ciarán followed suit and glanced at his mission clock. Sixty seven seconds left. He had to move. Quickly. The Spartan cocked his gun, "Well I'd love to stay and chat, but in about a minute, we're both going to be incinerated by an incredibly horrific explosion. I'm going to have to cut our rendezvous short."

He opened fire. The figure dodged to the left and quickly advanced on Ciarán. He violently brought his energy sword up in an attempt to cut the Spartan down. Unfortunately for him, Ciarán took a step back and caught his arm. Ciarán repositioned his pistol and opened fire point blank. Of the remaining four rounds, only one managed to piece the shields and hit its target. The Elite dropped the energy sword and broke away from Ciarán. Clutching his side, the Elite turned and quickly made his way down a smoking corridor.

"Ciarán! Move!"

The Spartan glanced at the hallway for a moment, but quickly boarded the smoldering Phantom. Serenity, interfacing with the ship's navigational system, quickly started the engines and propelled the craft through the roof. Turning away from the smoking building, she piloted the ship as fast as she could make it. Ciarán looked at the timer and said, "Serenity, no pressure or anything, but we have about ten seconds before we're scrap metal."

"A Phantom wasn't exactly made to maneuver like a Longsword, Ciarán! I've diverted power from weapons, shielding, live support, and a dozen other systems and rerouted it to the engines. I'm willing to bet this is the fastest Phantom is history! Now sit down and shut up while I fly this thing!"

"Touchy..."

As the conversation came to a close, Ciarán heard the explosion before he felt it. Like a thousand guns firing, the ensuing blast turned Ciarán into a rag doll in the enclosed space. Certain the Phantom was spiraling out of control, Ciarán locked his armor and closed his eyes, the free fall sensation immediately dissipating. After almost five minutes of stillness he deactivated it. Glancing around he realized he was still in the air as opposed to a pile of rubble. He looked at the monitor and asked, "Serenity, why didn't you tell me we weren't crashing?"

"I was enjoying some peace and quiet...relatively speaking. Want to take a look at your handy work? Look out the aft view port."

Ciarán stood, rolling his eyes, and proceeded to the back. Observing the screen he saw a kilometer high mushroom cloud and a crater where the facility had once been.

"Huh...too flashy in my opinion. I still think I should have just cleared out the residents one by one. Would have been simpler."

Ciarán took a seat in the pilots chair as Serenity commented, "I think you'd have run out of broom closets way before you finished stacking bodies."

The Spartan chuckled and removed his helmet. Wavy black hair and a pale complexion welcomed the fresh air. Noticing the five o'clock shadow in his reflection on the metal he said, "My devilishly handsome and chiseled features are in need of a shave."

"And your ego is in need of a brutal bashing."

Ciarán smiled. Remembering something, he removed his helmet's video recorder and inserted it into the Phantom's systems. He tapped a button and the start of his mission appeared on screen. Resting his head in his hand, Ciarán instructed, "Serenity, fast forward to my encounter with the Elite. Let it play through."

For the second time, he experienced the scuffle. As it concluded he said, "Play it back again and freeze at frame 374."

Doing as she was told, Serenity asked, "What exactly are you looking for?"

The video halted and Ciarán pointed at the wound he inflicted, "Zoom in there."

She did so and Ciarán leaned back, trying to piece together what he saw.

"Ciaran, what is bothering you?"

He disconnected the film and replaced it into his helmet, "It's nothing..."

The Covenant had a multitude of races and a vast variety of weaponry, but never once had he encountered a race that had blood as crimson as his own.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A Choice is Made

23:37, February 9, 2540 (Military Calender) /

Somewhere in the Epsilon Eridani System, On board ONI Prowler _Unity_

The corridor was dimly lit. The automated lights switched to low every day (if you could count 24 hours on an interstellar ship as a "day") promptly at 22:00. Dr. Catherine Halsey couldn't understand why ONI had to have the hall lights so low when no light got through a person's door when it was closed. She glanced at her companion and said, "Jacob, I appreciate your accompanying me to this meeting. Believe me when I say I'd rather be catching up over coffee than in a secluded, ONI prowler."

Jacob Keyes shrugged, "It's fine, ma'am. I don't mind."

"I've told you before, drop the ma'am. You never use it when we're around Miranda."

"Yes, ma'am," he responded almost immediately.

Halsey smiled, "How is she?"

Keyes glanced at her, "Well. Not happy that I'm always away, but she's fine. Been talking about joining the military."

"If she's anything like you, she'll make a fine soldier."

"No comment on her wanting to enlist?" Keyes questioned.

"I see no reason to. She wouldn't listen to my advice anyway. She'll just do what she wants."

Keyes chuckled, "Miranda gets her stubbornness from you, Elizabeth."

Halsey smiled again. Readjusting her glasses, she turned and stopped at her destination. She knocked thrice and entered. The room, only slightly better lit than the hall, was small. An oblong table resided in the center of the room and five of its eight chairs were filled. She recognized four of them. At the far end of the table sat Fleet Admiral Lord Terrance Hood. His normally light face was sullen and seemed almost sunken in. The war was definitely taking its toll. Upon further examination, Halsey noticed everyone in the room looked that way, even Keyes. Sitting opposite the Fleet Admiral was Vice Admiral Danforth Whitcomb and to his left sat Admiral Preston Cole. Colonel James Ackerson, Halsey's rival in almost everything, was seated to the right of Lord Hood and his assistant was placed in between the colonel and Cole.

Halsey noticed Keyes snap a crisp salute and waited for one of the admirals to address him. Hood was the first to notice and said, "Jacob, at ease. I'm glad you and the doctor could join us."

Keyes let his hand fall, but Halsey could tell he was finding it difficult to relax in front of all of the brass in the room.

"Yes, sir," Keyes responded.

"Please Jacob, no need for that here. This is purely an informative meeting; keeping up with formalities will just add to any tension that rises," he glanced at Ackerson and Halsey.

The commander nodded and stiffly walked over to a seat opposite of Ackerson's assistant. Halsey sat in front of Cole and, as she did so, Ackerson murmured, "Why is the commander here anyway? What possible contribution could he make to this meeting?"

"I always enjoy the commander's input. He's a good person to have when you want a nonobjective point of view," Hood commented.

"Uh-huh...seems more like Halsey's in need of her hubby as a crutch."

Keyes cast a glare at Ackerson as Hood said quietly, but sternly, "I may have said formalities are not required, James, but be warned, I will not tolerate a smart ass. Keep your comments to yourself. Am I understood?"

Ackerson rolled his eyes, "Yes sir."

"Good. Now how about we get on with this."

"I like that idea, Terry. Why exactly did you call this meeting at this god-awful hour?" Cole inquired.

Whitcomb grunted his concurrence. Hood looked at Ackerson and said, "The floor is yours."

"Erikson," Ackerson started. His assistant nodded and began passing out folders. As they circulated around the room, he continued, "On January 17, 2536 a group of geologists found a decent deposit of an unidentified metal. Within two months it was confirmed as a new, naturally occurring element. Incredibly dense, we call it Ventarium, after its discoverer Arthur Ventarius. In the months that followed, tests were conducted to uncover its properties. Based on recent findings, we've confirmed that its most outstanding attribute is that it is resistant to high temperatures."

"How high are we talking," Whitcomb interjected.

Ackerson smiled, "Temperatures generated by plasma fire."

Cole raised an eyebrow, "You mean to say we've found something that can give us an edge against the Covenant?"

"Hold your britches, Preston," Whitcomb said, "We don't even know how resistant "resistant" means."

"If you'll open your folders to page one," Ackerson began, "You'll see that a sheet of Ventarium half as thick as a 10cm sheet of Titanium-A is astronomically more resistant. Under sustained fire from a Covenant Plasma Rifle, Titanium-A lasts an estimated 10-15 seconds. Ventarium on the other hand lasted...over one minute and thirty seconds."

Everyone in the room except Halsey sat forward and exclaimed, "What?!"

"That is correct. On top of that, Ventarium is almost as light as aluminum meaning its applications are almost limitless. This discovery might very well win us the war, gentlemen."

"But there has to be a downside to something so perfect," Cole said after a moment.

Ackerson nodded and let out a sigh, "Ventarium has some unfortunate set backs. First, very little has been found. We'll need to carefully decide how it is used. Second, it has an unsavory reaction following exposure to extreme heat."

"Which is?" Lord Hood asked.

"We have no idea why, but for about an hour following the exposure, while it is cooling down, the metal is incredibly brittle. If more heat is applied, we have yet to see any adverse reactions, but should a projectile with sufficient velocity impact it, it'll shatter like glass. The science teams currently tasked to find a solution have yet to yield any satisfying results."

"So a stray asteroid or bullet in the middle of combat could cripple an operation," Whitcomb asked, gruffly.

"Well yes, but I foresee a solution being found in the near future."

"What do you suggest we do with this Ventarium, Ackerson? I'm sure you've given it some thought."

Ackerson's smile reemerged, "I'm glad you asked. Turn to page fifteen. I propose immediate construction of a Marathon-class cruiser with a Ventarium hull. The edge it would give us against the Covenant, especially if we outfit it with our most advance technology to-date, would greatly turn the tide of the war. It would be an achievement of unparalleled-"

Halsey cut him off, "Stupidity."

Everyone looked at Halsey. A vein in Ackerson's head popped, "What?"

"Funneling all the Ventarium into a half-assed project like that would be a total waste."

"How could it be a total waste?!" Ackerson stood abruptly, "Better yet, how could you possibly have any insight into the conversation? You've had your face buried in your data pad for the duration."

"First off, I was playing Hangman."

Turning her pad around revealed a large gallows with the letters, "EG_TISTICAL," spelled out below it. Hanging from the rope was a stick figure with Ackerson's head on it. Whitcomb couldn't hold back a chortle and Cole had to hide a smile behind his hand. Even Hood seemed relatively amused. Ackerson was visibly fuming now, but before he could comment Halsey continued, "Second, the cost to produce such a vessel would be almost three times the standard amount of a ship made of Titanium-A. That's a pretty penny out of the UNSC's pocket."

"How could you know that?! This folder has no written cost; only the files on my personal data pad have any estimates!"

"I know," Halsey replied, "I read them before I started Hangman."

"That's impossible! My personal data pad is protected not only with the highest level encryption possible from the UNSC, but also with my own, self-developed fire walls. How could you possible have accessed them?!"

"Heh, heh, please," Halsey proceeded to pay no more mind to the question, "Plus, say the ship is as effective as you make it out to be. The second the Covenant realize the significant threat it poses, they'll launch everything they have at it. I don't care how sturdy it is; a single ship versus five hundred will lose. Once that ship is destroyed, we no longer have any Ventarium to put to use. Ergo, stupid."

"And what do you propose we do with the Ventarium, doctor," Hood asked.

Setting down her data pad, she replied, "Give it to me."

"And do what with it," spat Ackerson, "Give it to your tin soldiers?"

Halsey smiled, "As a matter of fact..."

She tapped a button on her data pad which brought forth a holographic diagram of a set of armor. Hood leaned back in his seat and commented, "That's a suit of SPARTAN armor, is it not?"

Halsey nodded, "Yes, this is my MJLONIR Mk. IV armor, currently used by my SPARTANS."

"I take it you want to use the Ventarium to upgrade their suits?" Cole inquired, seemingly interested.

"Yes and no," Halsey answered.

A slight smile from Hood prompted her to continue. She tapped a few other keys and a new suit took the place of the old one. Almost identical, the most major difference was its somewhat slimmer design. Pointing at the armor she explained, "This is a very real, very effective prototype armor."

"A new installment in the MJLONIR line?" Hood asked.

Halsey shook her head, "Its a derivative of that line. I'm calling it FRAGARACH."

"You mean the sword from Irish mythology?" piped in Keyes.

Halsey looked at him, surprised, "I'm impressed Jacob."

He shrugged, "All I know is that it was fabled to be a sword that could pierce through any armor or weapon it came in contact with."

"Wouldn't mind a gun like that," Whitcomb chuckled.

Cole nodded in agreement. Halsey continued, "This brings me to my real proposal...a second SPARTAN Program."

The room was quiet for a moment. Finally Lord Hood asked, "What did you have in mind?"

"Sir, you can't seriously be considering this!" Ackerson half yelled, still standing.

"Colonel, either sit down and be quiet or leave."

Ackerson frowned, debating on whether or not to speak. Deciding against it, he grudgingly sat. Hood nodded, "Thank you; now please continue, doctor."

"I want to devote the Ventarium to a new group of super soldiers. My SPARTAN-IIs have proven to be above my expectations in terms of combat prowess while outfitted with MJLONIR armor. I want a chance to test this new set of armor on a group of soldiers who have yet to grow adjusted to MJLONIR."

"And is FRAGARACH superior to MJOLNIR?" inquired Cole.

"Yes and no," Halsey again answered, "At the moment, the armor is equal in terms of technology and functionality. However, my hope is that, with later versions, it will surpass MJOLNIR in terms of agility. This armor is to focus more on outmaneuvering an opponent while providing the same level of protection, instead of acting as a high end wall of metal. Let me make it perfectly clear that I also intend to pursue MJOLNIR, but FRAGARACH, especially with Ventarium plating, could give my new Spartans an enormous edge over Covenant infantry and allow for easier infiltration of enemy facilities."

Lord Hood nodded, "Is there anything else?"

"Actually yes, there is one more thing. Should you approve this program, I have one request."

Hood waited silently for it to be made. Halsey, without hesitating, said, "I want this program to be ninety percent civilian. If that's not possible, forget it. Invest your Ventarium in Ackerson's flying target."

Ackerson laughed, "Like hell, Halsey. There's no way anyone would approve that!"

"Before I make a decision, doctor, I want to ask you a question."

"Sir!" Ackerson was standing again, "You're letting this bitch get away with another one of her hair-brained schemes?!"

"Colonel! That will be the last outburst from you that I will tolerate. Once more and I will have the commander forcibly remove you from this room. Am I understood?"

Ackerson was about to make a comment when he noticed Keyes. Subtly, he'd scooted out from the table. While not visibly angry, Ackerson noted that his hand had moved to his sidearm following the previous comment. The colonel was almost certain that the commander wasn't going to shoot a senior officer, but he wasn't about to bet on that. Glaring at Halsey, he slowly sat down and murmured something. Hood's voice was at a yell now, "What was that soldier?!"

"Yes. Sir." responded Ackerson through gritted teeth.

Hood turned his attention back to Halsey, "Now then, my question to you is this. Why?"

"Sir?" Halsey questioned, not fully comprehending the question asked.

"Why?" repeated Hood, "Why do you want it to be civilian run? It seems counter productive to the training of new SPARTANs."

"Ah," Halsey said, "My apologies. I wasn't fully clear in detailing my plan. While civilian run and civilian based, they would be trained by select military personnel in an almost identical regimen to the SPARTAN-IIs. However, the difference will be in their standard education. They will attend, for five-six hours, a private, military academy with other children their age for at least their elementary and middle school careers. The remaining time of the day will be dedicated to military training and tactics. They will also receive, as a collective, tutoring from an AI to further aid in their development. They will also not be considered active members of the UNSC military."

"That's very...civilian," Whitcomb commented, stroking his salt and pepper mustache.

"Indeed," Cole agreed, "By not being enlisted in the military, they aren't obligated to fight. They could just up and leave sending millions of dollars down the drain. That's the only major problem I have with that proposal."

"You still haven't answered my question, doctor," Hood pointed out.

Halsey paused. After a few moments she let out a sigh and said, "I don't want this to turn out like my SPARTAN-II program."

"What do you mean?"

"I've come to realize that, despite creating such a formidable fighting force, that's all I've made. The children I raised to become such effective soldiers will never have a normal life. All they know is how to fight and defend. I swore to myself that should this program be approved, I will ensure that the children who are raised to risk everything will have the opportunity to live a life that they control. If they are so fortunate as to live to see the end of the war, I don't want them to be anchored to a single lifestyle if they don't want to be. I can guarantee you that they will fight if called to duty. I will make sure a sense of honor and duty is prominent within each and every one of them," she paused before continuing, "I know that they will make me proud, just like my SPARTAN-IIs."

A good five minutes passed following her explanation. The admirals were deep in thought as they processed her proposition. Keyes looked at the doctor, taken aback by the compassion that had overtaken her normally cool exterior. Finally, Hood focused on the doctor and asked, "All in favor of the doctors proposal?"

The three admirals and Keyes all said, "Aye."

Ackerson growled and stood, vacating the room quickly so as not to strangle Halsey. Hood ignored him and commented, "I would like to point out that I agree with Preston. A civilian militia is not exactly ideal now-a-days. It may have worked for our forefathers, but presently it'd be a pain to keep them reigned in. If you are truly adamant that they not be enlisted personnel, I suggest you allow them to hold some form of unofficial rank so that they can acknowledge superiors and be acknowledged by inferior troops," as Halsey slowly nodded, Hood concluded by asking, "So what did you have in mind for this programs title?"

Halsey picked up her data pad and tucked it under her arm. Looking over all the people in the room she said, "Project: OMICRON."


End file.
